*This is the 3rd instalment of a short – you can find the 2nd onehere:

Vigor returning to my step, I head to the lunchroom now sporting blinders to all around me.

“Nigel, I need to talk to you.” I look directly at him and head for the coffee pot.

He’s sitting in a fuchsia chair at the lunch table, his long fingers wrapped around a cup of sludge. His dark, thin eyebrows lift when he hears my tone.

“Well, you’re all business bright n’ early, love. Not even a good mornin’ for your crackerjack boss, then eh?” Nigel’s British lilt, although normally one of his few redeeming qualities, is bordering on annoying this particular day.

“I’m not kidding, boss. A serious face to face – when are you free?”

I look down at the dark liquid spilling out of the carafe. With bits and pieces of brown substance bobbing up and over the spout, I swear I see an entire bean pass through the flow and into my mug. Espresso, stock boy style.

His fingers punctuate his words and as he stands, Nigel’s tie uncurls like a snake’s tongue. “I may have some time post lunch,” he grazes on my attire, tasting his way from my boots up to my shabbily-chic ‘bunned’ hair. “You do have a way when it comes assembling”, he observes. “Quite an eclectic ensemble.

Not wanting to portray any self-doubt, I do not look my outfit over in front of him, but rather resurrect a mental image of my full-length mirror from this morning; Meh, I was good.

“I do like to think outsideThe Box once in a while, you know Nige…? There are options beyond…” Small pools of sweat form in my pits as I wonder if my metaphor is over his head, but I continue to doctor my coffee, now morphing into a latte, as I add more and more milk.

“As I say,” he sprays, “I’ll text you after my lunch. I’m not sure how long I’ll be with Denise,” Was it my imagination or did he hiss theS? “But we do have a lot to go over.”

With a snap of his tongue he slithers away. I put his cold mug in the sink and use my still damp cuff to wipe his venom off my forehead.

I was having a tough time getting started this morning, so I ate two…okay, three (but they were small!) Nestle Aero Easter eggs and now I’m ready to go. I’m ready, that is, to tell you about fib number two.

In “Fibbing on the Front Line” I claim that saying I snatched back a piece of my life, which happened to be writing, was a bit of an overstatement. Actually, I call it a fib, and go on to describe the fear, my fear, of sitting down to do what my heart desires.

No doubt, it is tough to write. It is difficult to create a world with your own words, your own ideas…literally a figment of your imagination. Will people get it? Will they like it? Will they even read it? And then there’s the; what if they read it? Good Lord, just close the lid now.

But wait! That last one…someone might read it, understand it…heck, there’s even a definite possibility they could indeed enjoy it. Holy moly. You could be an Author!

So, back to my fib. I did write. I created a 56,000 word, fluffy, chick-lit (apparently you’re not supposed to call it chick-lit anymore) novel. Yup, I did. I took the NaNoWriMochallenge and banged it out in thirty days, start to finish. I scrapped caution and quality and let the words flow…free like the wind. It was very liberating and ultimately, a rocking goal grabber.

The gist of NaNoWriMo is that you, very simply, write. You lay down 50,000 words in 30 days. That would be 1,666 words per day, give or take 20. You don’t edit, you don’t backtrack and you don’t fret. You just…keep going. It works!

But then what? Well, you edit. Or, as was my case, you let it sit. And, sit it did, for about a year. I couldn’t get myself to touch it. I was overwhelmed by all the words I had so freely let loose. Don’t get me wrong; if it weren’t for NaNoWriMo, I most likely never would’ve gotten as far as I did. I give Chris Baty huge props. But the rest was up to me. I had to throw myself across the finish line.

When I first began the challenge, my goal was, of course, to achieve the 50,000 words by the deadline. But, there was more. I wanted to send it to an Agent…and I wanted a response.

So, I hauled it out, dusted it off, and I edited. For another year. Now, that might lead you to believe I ended up with a masterpiece, a great Classic. Hardly. The end result was the original skeletal frame sporting a bit of flesh, maybe a few major organs…and some ‘functionability’. But, I was proud.

I sent it to twenty-five Agencies. I heard back from all twenty-five. Yay me! Obviously, they were all rejections or I would’ve typed “YAY ME! (duh) but still, their responses were filled with positive encouragement and polite comments. They’d actually read my babble. My gibberish! Okay, another yay me.

But, as the saying goes, give ‘em an inch; they’ll take a mile. Greed has struck. Indulgence is slowly overcoming my fundamental sheepish contentment. I want it published. I want to be an Author. I want someone else to say; YAY YOU.